She Knows
by Radi0.Hazard
Summary: She knows he's just a kid. A stupid kid. But she loves him all the same. Male Lone Wanderer/Original Character. Contains implied Ghoul Love. One shot.


**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so here it goes. ___ I don't think I've ever written a Fallout fanfiction before, which is odd, considering it's one of my favorite RPG series. This is only going to be a one-shot, though if there's enough demand for these two characters, I might just write a full-fledged story about them.**

**The first character is my Lone Wander: Rugged, charismatic, and oblivious. ;D Well, not completely oblivious. The second character is an OC I'm attempting to put the finishing touches on. I'd rather not bore you with details, so here it goes.**

Bethesda owns all legal rights to Fallout. While these main characters and interpretations are mine, I do not have any legal ownership of them.

She knows that this might all just be a dream.

She knows that she's no longer a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, but something continues to compel her to put on her worn, torn T-45d armor every morning. And she knows that he watches her while she dresses, grinning that stupid, happy-go-lucky Vault Boy grin. She knows that she should tell him to _knock that shit off_ and remind him that she's a person, not a slab of meat to be gazed at.

… But she also knows she's no longer a person.

She knows that she is a monster. A freak. A _Ghoul_. So why is that goddamned Lone Wanderer always having asking her to tag along with him? She knows that people stare at her, that people laugh and cackle about how she looks like she's been a Deathclaw's chew toy.

And she knows that it shouldn't bother her after all this time, but she _still_ has to restrain herself from interrupting the punchlines of their jokes with a well-placed slap to the face or kick to the groin. The Lone Wanderer just shrugs the jokes off and laughs—Though she knows he doesn't really find them funny. Or, at least, she hopes not.

She knows that they're not exactly an orthodox pair. She, a rotting, Ghoulish exile from the Brotherhood of Steel (even the _Outcasts_ wouldn't take her), and _he_, a stupid, dirty young man who just crawled his way out of a Vault. She knows that she should tell him to shave that stubble off, and make himself more presentable; however, even _she_ has to admit that it looks good on him.

She knows that she's not the only girl in the Capital Wasteland who thinks so. Other women, prettier women, _normal_ women have waltzed up to the Lone Wanderer and struck up a conversation without even so much as a _hello_ in her direction. And she knows that he will never refuse to show them a good time, because that's who he _is_—A party animal at heart. He's the kind of guy who isn't out to hurt anybody, just to party, but he always ends up accidentally hurting somebody in the end. _Her._

She knows he doesn't mean it. She knows that's just his nature. And while she doesn't like it… She understands it.

She knows he's been jetting tonight. And drinking, too. She can see his shaking, twitching hands, and she can smell the liquor on his breath as it wafts through his chattering teeth. She knows that she should give him a lecture on how he's going to kill himself like this one day; she knows that by morning, he'll be in the bathroom of his Megaton apartment, emptying the contents of his stomach into the radioactive water of the toilet. But she doesn't have the heart to get pissed at him, especially not when he's looking so _vulnerable_.

She knows that he's not thinking straight, which is why he's desperately groping at her and trying to convince her to keep him company. She knows that she's still got a fairly nice body, but _goddamn_, doesn't the lack of _skin_ on her bother him at all? Apparently not. He breathes into her decaying ear, cooing her name over and over again as he drags her to the bed.

She knows that tomorrow morning will be an incredibly awkward one. But she doesn't care, because she _deserves_ this. For all the shit she's gone through for his sorry ass. Speaking of his ass, she notices that he's got a nice one. Real firm. The boys from Vault 101 must do as much exercise as the boys in the Brotherhood of Steel do. Or did. She's not sure.

…

She knows that he's sleeping now. Exhausted, of course. So is she. She curls up to him and tentatively reaches up to run her bony fingers through the thick black hair on his scalp. He doesn't wake up, so she contents herself by tracing the direction of his hair, his sideburns, the stubble on his cheeks… So much for being a smoothskin.

A part of her wants to kiss him and tell him she loves him. She doesn't know why she loves him. Maybe it's just because he's a nice guy. Or maybe it's because he treats her like the woman she _used_ to be. But in the end, she knows that she doesn't have to tell him.

Because _he knows._

**Author's Note: OMG GHOUL LOVE LIKE WHOA? ____ Okay, so maybe it wasn't very graphic, but still. Ghoulish **_**ladies**_** need some love too, everyone. ;;**

**This is my first time writing in a repetitive, present-tense way. It felt a bit awkward writing like that, but I wanted to go in a new direction and see if I could write something in that style. Was I successful? Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated.**

**Sorry if I didn't give much information away about these too. I'm trying to, uh… ___ Generate interest. *Fails.***


End file.
